


Glitch Gang

by RagdollDark



Series: Glitch Gang [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF!Prowl, Continuity Mashup, Crime, Developing Relationship, Drama, Family, Gangs, Glitches, Illegal Activities, Interrogation, M/M, Romance, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagdollDark/pseuds/RagdollDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz is sent on an infiltration mission, but things don't always go as planned, nor are they always as they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitch Gang

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Special thanks belong to Exactlywhat for not only betaing this, but for also being the person I adopted the bunny from via tf-bunny-farm.
> 
> This is set in complete AU, with strongest influences coming from G1, Bayverse and TFP. OCs are all mine, and if they happen to share names with someone, that is pure coincidence. Oh, and pre-war.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

It wasn't every orn that a rookie got called in the Prime's office. And Meister had to admit he was damnably nervous as he walked the empty corridors towards the Autobot commander's lair. Possible reasons for his calling were flitting over his mind along with the most recent memories in an attempt to discern whether or not he had a reason to be worried. Surely the pranking he was actively involved in didn't require the Prime's attention?

No, he couldn't think of anything too incriminating he would've done recently. That didn't ease his tension in the least, though.

What could the Prime possibly want from him?

Perhaps he had done something wrong in his last mission? Just because Nightblow hadn't mentioned anything didn't mean the possibility didn't exist. Or perhaps the Prime wanted to talk about his report, as for more details? But that wouldn't make sense. There was a whole chain of command between the inexperienced saboteur and the leader of the Autobot army. At best he might be able to get to talk to one of the junior tacticians.

Then why was he called?

Shaking his head forcefully Meister cut his looping thoughts. It would do no good to work himself up to the point where he'd be rattling out of his plating. The least he could do was try to put on a professional face and not look like a newbie who was about to spill his lubricants just from seeing the Prime in person, even if that wasn't too far from the truth.

Putting all his spec ops training in use, Meister schooled his features to that of neutrality and smoothed his edgy gait to something more easy-going and relaxed. Good thing was that he had been called in the middle of the shifts when mechs were either on duty or relaxing in the rec room or in their quarters. Running to someone when he was so far from his cheerful and carefree self was not on the list of things Meister wanted to do. No doubt his worried brothers in arms would question him with good intentions, even if that was not something Meister needed now or ever.

The impressive double-doors, the gateway to the Prime's office, were enough to unmake whatever calm Meister had managed to collect in his spark, sending it back in a turmoil of apprehension. The training of a saboteur kept his facial features and body language at odds with what he was feeling, dark visor covering optics that would've otherwise denounced everything. In his line of duty, showing nervousness was highly undesirable. Spies were exposed when they had lost their cool. Saboteurs were blown sky high when they let their nerves overpower them.

You couldn't be spec ops if you didn't know how to keep it calm on the outside.

With one last calming vent Meister braced himself and pinged for entrance.

The doors swung open immediately, sliding from his way to admit the saboteur. With his full-body mask of respectful indifference firmly in place, Meister stepped in the room and allowed the doors to close behind him, then halted and moved to stand at attention.

"Ya wanted ta see meh, sir?" he questioned while visored optics roamed around the room, taking in the grand office. Light poured from the window looking the main courtyard of the Autobot base, touching every surface with its warm glow. Beyond the strong walls of the base the city of Iacon was gleaming in the sun, warm and welcoming. Basking in the light with his back towards the window was a sizeable red mech, Sentinel Prime himself.

The office itself was large as one might expect from someone of the Prime's rank. Shelves lined the walls on Meister's left and right side, filled with datapads, statues and other decorative trinkets, along with the occasional trophy. The desk the Prime was sitting at was huge, at least for a commoner like Meister. Opposite to the owner of the office, on the other side of the desk, were two visitors' chairs. While not as comfortable looking as the Prime's chair that was clearly built for someone sitting on it for hours on end, they were well above decent.

All in all, it was a grand office indeed, but not overly so, filling Meister's expectation quite well and thus not surprising him. What did surprise him, though, was that one of the visitors' chairs was already occupied, and by no other than the Commander of Special Operations, Nightblow, the mech Meister reported directly to. The dark mech's blue optics were firmly locked on the younger mech, and Meister politely inclined his head in greeting, receiving an acknowledging nod in return.

"You must be Meister. Come and take a seat," the rumbling vocals of the Prime had the young saboteur moving before he could even process the command, and he was soon seated on the chair right from the spec ops commander, holding himself far stiffer than normally. He dipped his head in greeting to the red mech, leaving his gaze slightly downcast from reverence.

Despite his best efforts to hide it, Meister had the feeling that both commanders knew exactly how nervous he was.

"Do you know why you have been called here, Meister?" the Prime inquired once the saboteur in question had settled. The query had him halting, raking his processor in an attempt to find an answer. Should he know why he was here? Had he missed something?

Despite the danger of making himself look incompetent, Meister decided to go with the honest truth. What other choices did he even have? He truly had no idea why he had been summoned, and making up easily discerned lies and tales would be beyond humiliating.

"No sir. Ah only got t'impression 'twas urgent."

"Good. No one outside of the three of us can know the reason you have come here today, understood?"

Apparently he had given the right answer. "Understood, sir."

"Excellent," the Prime rumbled before sitting back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests and fingers laced together, pinning the young mech with his powerful gaze. "You have been chosen on a mission to infiltrate a potentially dangerous group of mechs that one of our sources has identified as Decepticon recruiters. However, we do not have definite evidence, and the grouping is highly evasive in their actions. Your mission is to get in their inner circles, determine whether or not they truly are Decepticons and provide the Autobots the information needed to take them down."

Meister could only stare in shock and no little amount of horror at his faction leader. Potentially dangerous Decepticons recruiters, and he was supposed to go poking in there? "What?!" escaped from the saboteur's vocalizer before he could stop it, the startled yelp effectively communicating all his skepticism. Forgetting all protocols and his own nervousness, Meister sprang to his feet and started pacing behind his division commander, arms wildly gesturing as he tried to find the right words. Despite the obscuring visor, the strength of his feelings of disbelief, doubt and diffidence were transmitted straight to the Prime through the incredulous glances shot his way every few steps.

"What?! How… Why? Why meh? Ah'm a saboteur, not'n infiltrator! Ah blow stuff up! Even a spy woulda be a better option than meh! Better yet, an actual infiltrator! We 'ave plenty of those n' not all of 'em can be out! Or someone else! Not meh! Ah'm not fit fer such things! Ah'm not –"

His ranting was cut short by the steady, unyielding voice of the spec ops commander. "Meister. You are a member of the special operations. True or false, infiltration is part of your basic training?" Just like Nightblow to make quiz-like questions to not only test your knowledge, but also to boost your confidence.

Shoulders slumping the saboteur halted, head bowing in defeat. "True, sir."

"Then you are as good as anyone," seemingly satisfied the dark spec ops mech sat back and nodded to the Prime, apparently signaling that the situation was back under control. Heaving a sigh through his vents Meister collapsed back on the chair he had vacated, offlining his optics as he rubbed his temples.

"But why meh? There're fa' more experienced mechs jus' in our unit, and ya make this mission sound pretty slaggin' important. Why would ya take t'risk it would get screwed up by a rookie like meh?" Distress it was that made Meister ignore all proper ways to address a superior, but luckily both higher ranking mechs seemed to understand that and refrained from scolding the saboteur.

The rumbling of the Prime's engine drew Meister's gaze back up, and he found himself once more pinned by the powerful presence behind those blue optics. "It is because of your inexperience in this field that you have been chosen." Before the young saboteur could voice his doubt, the Prime lifted his hand to stop any and all protests. "You have never been on an infiltration mission before. Your work as a saboteur forces you to keep low profile on missions, thus barely anyone outside this base knows you, and despite your popular reputation as an outgoing mech, you confide in very few mechs. You have the training, as Nightblow pointed out, even if you have specialized on sabotage. You have proven to be quick thinker and able to improvise when the plan fails, traits important when going undercover. And last but not least, you already have experience of the ways of the streets."

Meister had to agree it was all true, even if he hardly believed he had enough skills or confidence for an undercover operative. But the last comment, which was simply a nicer way of saying he had once been a petty criminal, had him ducking his head in shame. Before recruiting to the Autobots, he had lived in the streets of Polyhex, scraping by with not always very lawful methods, and he wasn't proud of what he had done.

It did give him good insight of what the life in the wrong side of the law was, though. However, what Prime and Nightblow were talking about seemed to be from a whole other league than what Meister had ever been as a mere thief for personal need.

"Mah target?" Meister questioned, the simple words conveying his consent on taking the mission, even if it was in a highly resigned manner. While he enjoyed danger and excitement that came with an adventurous, dangerous mission, this was something entirely else. He wasn't simply going to sneak up in some 'Con energon refinery to place a few explosives. No, he needed to infiltrate, become part of his target, play on false identity, false personality, and make sure his act was convincing enough to keep everyone from suspecting. And how long he would need to keep it up was anyone's guess.

While Meister didn't doubt he could turn the mission down, and that he definitely wanted to do so, it didn't seem right despite his qualms.

His acceptance seemed to please the Prime, who relaxed in his chair comfortably and smiled somehow smugly. The glare Meister gave him for that was luckily hidden by his gleaming visor.

It was Nightblow who spoke up, though. "Your target will be the Glitch Gang."

Head snapping to give an incredulous glance at his commander, Meister leaned back in his chair and took a more relaxed position, expecting to be sitting there for a while. "Never heard of it."

"Few have," Nightblow agreed, "as they keep under the radar most of the time. They make a hit and then disappear as if they had never been there."

"How's that? Sure there gotta be some witnesses. Jus' leave a search warrant of 'em wit' a bunch of credits and someone's sure ta turn 'em in."

"Now there is one of the things we want you to look at. They always leave plenty of witnesses, rarely bother to kill anyone, but testimonies…" the dark mech gave a somehow sorrowful shake of his head as he handed a datapad to his subordinate. Meister took it and turned it on, quickly assessing the contents. Testimonies. A lot of them.

Randomly choosing one case, an armed robbery of a bank, he started to read what various mechs and femmes witnessing the robbery had told. And despite all he had seen during his action-filled life, Meister was dumbstruck.

"Are they all like this?" the saboteur asked as he quickly read through the testimonies related on the case. They had no consistency. Some were convinced that there had been an entire armada of raiders, while others were certain there had only been one or two mechs. Some said there had been gunfire and shouting, others claimed it had been a clean, quick and quiet robbery and couldn't explain where the marks on the walls had come from. It was a lucky thing if two mechs had been agreeing on one thing. And all anyone could tell from the looks of the muggers were approximate colors, and even those rarely matched the descriptions given by others.

Glancing at Nightblow in utter disbelief, Meister's only answer was a silent, deflated nod. "All cases, all witnesses, all testimonies. Nothing that would help to catch them, never mind working as evidence should we be able to bring them in front of the court."

Turning his gaze back to the datapad in his hand, Meister made quick work of briefly skimming over the rest of the contents. What Nightblow had said was true, the same contradiction among the witnesses continuing throughout the cases. Clearing his vocalizer Meister handed the pad back to his commander, thoughts spinning in his processors. "D'we know anythin' about 'em?"

The Prime's deep voice answered his question. "Aside from speculations and rumors, no. The sources we have either don't know anything or refuse to tell."

"Those who give even the smallest bit of information usually disappear without a trace," Nightblow continued gravely. Meister frowned at him.

"Disappear? As in killed, prolly tortured ta death, n' t'frames are jus' never found?"

"Most likely."

"Really discourages anyone ta open their mouth, huh?" It came out a bit breathlessly, but who could blame him? He was about to subject himself to the very real danger of receiving the same treatment.

"Yes. That is one of the reasons we need you to get in there. We have no other way of knowing exactly who they are or how dangerous they can be."

Meister sat back, a thoughtful frown crossing his visored features as he mulled over all the information. The Prime and Nightblow seemed to tense, possibly fearing he would turn the mission down anyway. And he would've lied if he said he wasn't tempted to. The risks were high, one slip could easily cost him his life via a very painful death. But this was also his chance to make a difference, to truly help the Autobot cause. If these mechs were indeed Decepticon recruiters, the information he would dig up would help to take them down and rid them from the Autobot capital. The thought was quite thrilling.

And Meister had never been one to turn down a challenge.

"When do Ah start?"


End file.
